Don't Call Me Cinderella
by yallaintright
Summary: Princess Diaries AU, Grantaire as the long lost Crown Prince of Genovia. E/R, Courf/Ép
1. The one with the stripper

The problem with Enjolras and Grantaire is that they've been doing this dance since before they knew what the dance even was.

In an ideal world, it would go like this: six year-old Grantaire spills hot chocolate on six year-old Enjolras's shirt. Grantaire apologizes. Enjolras ignores him. Grantaire apologizes more. Enjolras ignores him. Grantaire shares his Oreos with Enjolras. Enjolras forgives him. Enjolras and Grantaire become friends. Enjolras and Grantaire grow up. Sometime after becoming annoying hormone-riddled teenagers Enjolras and Grantaire realize they want to have hot back-breaking sweaty sex with each other. Enjolras and Grantaire have hot back-breaking sweaty sex with each other. The end.

However, because this is not an ideal world and the universe apparently hates Courfeyrac (the universe is just jealous it does not have Courfeyrac's manly shoulders), it goes like this: six year-old Grantaire spills hot chocolate on six year-old Enjolras shirt. Grantaire apologizes. Enjolras ignores him. Grantaire apologizes more. Enjolras ignores him. Grantaire shares his Oreos with Enjolras. Enjolras forgives him. Grantaire promptly manages to spill water all over Enjolras's hair. Grantaire apologizes. Enjolras ignores him. Enjolras and Grantaire grow up. Enjolras and Grantaire argue about every single thing on the face of the planet. Enjolras and Grantaire become annoying emotionally stunted hormone-riddled teenagers who apparently haven't yet managed to notice that they want to have hot back-breaking sweaty sex with each other. Enjolras and Grantaire don't have hot back-breaking sweaty sex with each other. Courfeyrac has to put up with the endless amounts of eye fucking that happen every single time one of them thinks the other isn't looking. Courfeyrac eventually gives in and murders them both in their sleep.

Okay, so maybe the last two haven't happened yet. Courfeyrac reckons it's only a matter of time anyway.

Specially because heavens forbid he brings it up to _either _of them. Grantaire will blush and attempt to hide under his beanie and throw the occasional pillow in Courfeyrac's general direction (it's okay, he mostly has terrible aim). Enjolras, however, will just go very still and get that terrifying look in his eyes that no one not even old enough to legally buy alcohol should be able to produce and, quite frankly, makes Courfeyrac want to look into the witness protection program.

The work of a martyr, Courfeyrac thinks sadly, is never fully appreciated.

And, honestly - Courfeyrac is _tired_. Courfeyrac is so, _so _tired and if he has to put up with Enjolras and Grantaire Enjolrasing and Grantairing all over the place in a remotely sober state he's going to have to punch someone. Although, of course, it won't be either of them, because Enjolras doesn't look like the kind of person who enjoys getting punched, and he's quite sure that the blonde would like it even less if he were to punch Grantaire.

So, he does the next best thing - he makes a drinking game out of it. First, he bugs Éponine into helping him, partly because she's Grantaire's best friend and therefore must be suffering as much as Courfeyrac, if not more, and partly because she's a genius with computers.

Her answer, however, is a clear and resounding no. It's okay, though, Courfeyrac had planned for Éponine being difficult.

"Éponine - " he starts, but she cuts him off before he can get start explaining why it's important to do good things for the greater good and how the pain of one isn't more important than the happiness of many. Or something along those lines, he didn't actually plan the speech ahead.

"Oh, _hell _no. You can turn the puppy eyes right off. Enjolras will kill you." Éponine says, waving a threatening finger at him.

"No, he won't." Courfeyrac replies, with more confidence than he feels.

"Yes, he will. Slowly. And worse, he will make you listen to the indie bullshit music he's always listening to while he does it. You hate his indie bullshit music."

"Do you honestly care _how _he does it?"

"No, but Enjolras isn't an idiot. He knows it's a wonder you can find the Start button on your computer at all." And Courfeyrac has to admit she has a point. "He'll know you had help. And we both know there's no way you'll hold under torture. Two minutes into "The Cave" and you'll be telling him all your dirty secrets. And worse, you'll be telling him all of mine. Like how I was the one to help you. He'll come after me next. I don't know about you, but I actually enjoy having all my limbs firmly attached, Courfeyrac."

Luckily, Courfeyrac had planned for her sense of self-preservation of well so he knows he'll have to bring in the big guns. "I'll do your history homework for a week."

Éponine snorts. "You'll do _all _my homework until the end of the school year."

"I'll do all your homework for a week." Courfeyrac counters.

"Courfeyrac," she says slowly, as if talking to a child, "you want me to create an iPhone app for the basic purpose of stalking Enjolras and Grantaire."

"It's not stalking!" Courfeyrac says indignantly, because it _isn't_. "It's just like a checklist. Whenever they do something sexual tension-y we'll check in and then we can all get together and get drunk later. You approve of getting people drunk. Hell, Grantaire loves getting people drunk. Grantaire would think this was a good idea if it allowed him to get drunk as well."

"Yes, I'm sure Enjolras will let you live if you put it just like that." She rolls her eyes. "All my homework. End of the year. Or you do this on your own. Your call."

Courfeyrac can't help but be impressed, even though he still thinks she is only doing this because if push comes to shove Enjolras will only kill him and allow her to live - Grantaire would miss her, and Enjolras wouldn't want to upset him. "You drive a hard bargain, Thénardier. Deal." he says, putting out a hand for her to shake.

She shakes his hand and then immediately settles down to work, asking him, "Do you have a list already?"

Courfeyrac snorts. "Of course I have a list. Who do you take me _for_?"

He does have a list. He is very proud of the list. The list goes like this:

_Enjolras and Grantaire argue about something mind bogglingly stupid - Drink one sip_

_Enjolras starts pacing - Drink one sip_

_Enjolras and Grantaire glare at each other - Drink one sip_

_Grantaire blushes - Drink one sip_

_Enjolras blushes - Finish your glass_

_("I didn't even know Enjolras was actually physically capable of blushing."_

"Grantaire's last birthday. He was drunk and decided he wanted to pet Enjolras' hair. Enjolras actually purred. It would've been glorious, if it hadn't made me want to punch myself in the face.")

_While claiming to watch TV, one of them is actually asleep on top of the other on the couch - Drink one sip_

_The one being used as a pillow can't bring himself to wake up the other one - Drink one shot_

_Enjolras gets jealous of anyone paying the slightest bit of attention to Grantaire - Drink one shot_

_Grantaire drops whatever he is holding because Enjolras smiled at something - Drink one shot_

("Wait, what is this even supposed to be called?"

"So You Think You Can Sexual Tension."

"That makes no grammatical sense."

"I am not paying you for your grammatical skills, Thénardier."

"You're not paying me at all, Courfeyrac. Remind me again of why I am doing this."

"Homework. The kindness of your heart? Because you believe in karma? Because this will inevitably lead to drunken revelry and you enjoy encouraging the corruption of youth?"

"That does make sense.")

_Enjolras smiles his "Grantaire is an annoyingly adorable contrarian and if I could I would be nakedly cuddling him" smile_

_Grantaire smiles his "Enjolras is an annoyingly outspoken hot greek god and I want to nakedly cuddle him" smile_

("Who the hell even says nakedly cuddling?"

"Shh, just stand there and code.")

_Grantaire trips over his feet because Enjolras smiled at something - Drink one sip_

_Enjolras catches Grantaire before he falls down - Drink one shot_

_Enjolras forgets what he was saying because Grantaire smiled - Drink one shot_

_Enjolras and Grantaire fuck each other's brains out - You have alcohol poisoning and are clearly suffering from hallucinations. Please go to the nearest hospital._

It takes her ten minutes to finish and while Courfeyrac is impressed at the speed, he is not impressed at the design. "Thénardier, this is the ugliest fucking app I have ever seen."

"Do you want this app or do you want an app that looks good _and _for me to punch you on the face?" She replies sweetly, with her hands on her hips.

"You make an excellent point." And then, because unlike some people, Courfeyrac isn't an emotionally stunted asshole and Éponine is, objectively speaking, very hot, while not putting up with any of his bullshit, he simply turns to her with a winning smile and says, "So, do you want to go on a date or something?" and because Éponine also isn't an emotionally stunted asshole, she looks him up and down in a truly unimpressed sort of way and says, "There's no The Walking Dead on this week, I can do Sunday." And that had been that.

And sure, Courfeyrac knows that she has a crush on Marius, but he does enjoy a challenge and Éponine is fun and tough and hot and smart and he likes that in a woman, so there's no reason why he _shouldn't _ask her out. And when one date turns into two turns into three turns into so many he loses count, Courfeyrac can't help but be sure that asking her out was a good decision, even if she still is still making him do her homework.

On the plus side, he doesn't have to do quite so much begging to get her to update the list, which has now grown to be around five pages long, and were they to strictly check everything on it, everyone would wake up on the hospital with alcohol poisoning within an hour of putting up with Enjolras and Grantaire.

Still, they have a system for it now. Whenever Grantaire calls because he needs help with his maths homework or Enjolras wants someone to go see the most recent independent movie with him, they all make their excuses so that Enjolras and Grantaire have to spend time together.

Courfeyrac will say that he can't because he's having sex with Éponine. Combeferre will say that he's volunteering at the puppy shelter (and he probably _will _be volunteering at the puppy shelter rather than drinking with them but, whatever, Courfeyrac still admires his dedication to the cause). Jehan will say that he can't because there's a poetry reading downton and invite them both to come along. Bahorel will have kickboxing practice. Feuilly will say that he can't because History Channel is showing a documentary on Polish history. Marius will say that his cats are getting lonely (and Courfeyrac will roll his eyes, because there's only so much shrieking over Napoleon and Bonaparte that he can take and who the fuck even names their cats that?). Bossuet will say that he's lost his keys again. Joly will say that he's coming down with a cold. And Éponine, charming ray of light that she is, will say that a) she's having sex with Courfeyrac and b) even if she wasn't having sex with Courfeyrac, she still wouldn't _want _to.

And in reality, they will get together at Courfeyrac basement and drink, bet and plot.

Which is why he isn't that surprised when, on Grantaire's eighteenth birthday, a male stripper jumps out of his cake. It's what Courfeyrac _had _wanted to give him, but Grantaire had made him pinky swear he wouldn't and even Courfeyrac wouldn't break that kind of promise. Still, when the cake arrives, it is nothing if not 'stripper-sized'.

Courfeyrac doesn't really question it and instead just makes sure the cake isn't under any direct sunlight so whoever is inside it won't get too sweaty. The way he sees it, the universe owes him and this is it's way of paying him back.

And when the guy inside it jumps out, Courfeyrac thinks he'd prefer it if he was younger, blonder and blue-eyed, but he is hot and attractive in a dark-haired, dark-eyed, broad-shouldered, old enough to be be his dad sort of way but - again - he doesn't really question it, just thinks it is karma paying him back for all his hard work.

He doesn't punch the air when Enjolras breaks the glass he was holding because he doesn't actually have a death wish. But it's close.

Instead, as the man who jumped out of the cake drags a very reluctant Grantaire into the nearest bathroom (Courfeyrac thinks it would make more sense for the lap dance to be public but he's not about to question the universe as it has finally decided to work with him), he turns to his friends and asks, "So, which one of you gorgeous gentlemen did it?"

He doesn't even find it particularly strange when he is met with eight confused expressions (Éponine's, Feuilly's, Joly's, Jehan's, Combeferre's, Bahorel's, Bossuet's and Marius') and one murderous one (Enjolras').

He only starts to realize that something doesn't quite add up when the man walks out of the bathroom barely five minutes after walking in, with all his clothes still on, and a very confused-looking Grantaire following closely behind him. A very confused-looking Grantaire who doesn't look at _all _like someone who just got a lap dance. A very confused-looking Grantaire who turns to his friends, runs a hand through an already extremely untidy mess of black curls and, with an apologetic look in his eyes, says he has to go deal with "family issues", before being dragged out of the door by the man.

Courfeyrac isn't one hundred percent sure, but he thinks Grantaire may just have been kidnapped by a stripper.


	2. The one with the limo

For his eighteenth birthday, all Grantaire wanted was a pony. Well, actually, all Grantaire really wanted was some quality makeout time with Enjolras, hopefully with very little clothing involved, but God knew that was never going to happen, so he had resignedly decided to settle for a pony. Or possibly a unicorn. He wasn't that picky about equines.

What he got was an admittedly very attractive middle-aged man jumping out of his birthday cake, when he deliberately had made Courfeyrac pinky swear that no strippers would be involved with his party.

The man, dressed in black from head to toe, had quickly gotten to his feet, wiped stray bits of frosting from his hair, glared at everyone in the room - including Courfeyrac, who looked like Grantaire had indeed gotten a unicorn for his birthday, and Enjolras, who somehow had managed to break the glass he was holding using nothing but his bare hands - until he finally settled his eyes on Grantaire, grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and half-carried, half-dragged him into the nearest bathroom, locking the door firmly behind him and gravely declaring that they must speak at once.

After that, things get weird.

"You're a wizard, Harry," the man says calmly, leaning against the bathroom door and crossing his arms over his chest.

"I'm really not," Grantaire replies, sitting on the bathtub edge. Sure, he may have spent his eleventh birthday crying in bed because no letter had come from Hogwarts, but nowadays he's quite sure that if he _was _a wizard he'd already have woken up with Enjolras in his bed with neither of them having any idea how he got there in the first place. Lace boxer briefs might have been involved somehow. Or no boxers briefs at all. Both scenarios work extremely well for him.

But judging by the lack of semi-naked blond on his bed, Grantaire is most definitely not a wizard. The only logical explanation is, therefore, that Courfeyrac has gotten him a Harry Potter-themed stripper for his birthday. Unfortunately, that means that Grantaire is now obviously going to have to kill him and, consequently, force the entire glitter industry into bankruptcy.

The man visibly cringes. "Yes, you're really not," he says, stroking his chin. "I'm sorry, my daughter told me to tell you that. She said it would make it easier for you to trust me. I take it it didn't work?"

"Not really," Grantaire says dryly.

"Right," the man says. "My name is Jean Valjean. Your stepmother sent me."

Which is a nice story but... "I don't have a stepmother."

"Yes, you do. She is - she _was _married to your father."

"I've got a father?" Grantaire asks, his voice a little more high pitched than he'd intended, as his eyebrows disappear into his hairline.

Valjean blinks. "Yes? Er, you do know where babies come from, don't you? When a man and a woman love each other very much - "

"Oh, God," Grantaire yelps nervously. "Wait, no, I know _that_, please don't - "

"Well, then," the man says, relief clear in the way his shoulders relax. "Your stepmother wants to see you. Privately. And preferably not in a bathroom. And sooner rather than later. In fact, right now would be just perfect. I'm going to need you to come with me."

"It's my birthday party, I can't - "

"You can say your goodbyes and come with me. It's time for you to come into your destiny. Your country needs you," Jean Valjean says in the same dramatic tone as before and Grantaire resists the urge to throw a shampoo bottle at his head. Valjean opens the door and turns back to smile kindly at Grantaire. "Happy birthday, by the way."

"Can I call you Hagrid?" Grantaire asks, because if he gets a mysterious visitor for his birthday he's going to milk it for all it's worth.

"I'd really rather you didn't," Valjean says.

"You're no fun," Grantaire complains, following Valjean out of the bathroom and out of the house while mumbling some bullshit about 'family problems' to all his friends, and finally stumbling into the backseat of a black limousine parked just outside.

Next birthday, he'll let Courfeyrac get him the damned stripper.

"So, are we there yet?" Grantaire asks, approximately two minutes into the car ride.

"Not yet," Jean Valjean replies patiently from the driver's seat.

"Right," Grantaire nods to himself. "I don't suppose you want to tell me where we're going?"

"I've told you - your stepmother wants to see you," Valjean says, keeping his eyes on the road.

"Yes, you've told me that," Grantaire says slowly. "But that makes no sense. Because there are these things called 'knocking on someone's door''. You may have heard of them? A bit conventional, maybe, but sometimes conventionality isn't a bad thing. Not when the other option is jumping out of a birthday cake at someone's eighteenth birthday party, at least."

"And that's what I would have done if my relationship with Javert wasn't what you'd call - Er." Valjean gulps audibly. "That is to say, your grandfather isn't particularly fond of me. Or of the rest of your family. At least not right now. Well, or ever really. This felt like the smarter, safer choice."

"Hiding inside a birthday cake, gatecrashing a birthday party and kidnapping someone seemed like the "smarter, safer choice"? As opposed to, I don't know, _a phone call_?"

"I was told to think outside the box," Valjean says defensively.

"And you thought 'outside the box' by thinking 'inside the cake'?" Grantaire asks in disbelief.

"Yes?" Valjean asks, blinking up at Grantaire through the rearview mirror. "But anyway, this is hardly a kidnap attempt. You came with me of your own free will."

Grantaire shrugs carelessly. "I had nothing better to do this weekend. And I'm honestly baffled as to why anyone would want to kidnap me. If it's money you're looking for I am _really _not the person you want to kidnap. And, honestly? I was curious. Enjolras has always said that if I ever were to get arrested I'd probably just annoy the cops until they decided to release me of their own free will, just so they wouldn't have to listen to me anymore. So I decided to put that theory to the test with you. In case you _were _going to kidnap me." He frowns. "But then I suppose I'd only have tested the theory with a kidnapper and not a cop, which isn't exactly the same thing, of course, but in case you do happen to be kidnapping me, I still think conclusions can be drawn from your reaction to me and applied to how the police would behave. Of course, there are certain limitations, given - "

Valjean groans from behind the wheel and resolutely pulls up the privacy divider between them.

"Rude," Grantaire says to the empty air.

Grantaire is just starting to settle in for a nap when he notices that Valjean has finally started to slow down the car. When he looks out of the window, he finds himself in the obnoxiously rich part of town.

Huh. Doesn't Enjolras live around here somewhere? If this was all an elaborate prank on Courfeyrac's part and Grantaire's going to find himself tied to Enjolras' bed, Courfeyrac will die screaming.

But apparently it isn't, because Valjean drives past Enjolras' house without even a glance. Finally, he drives through what looks like a high-security gate at the end of the street, with the guard barely sparing them a look.

"We're here," Valjean says, pulling the privacy divider back down.

"This is the weirdest kidnapping attempt I've ever been a part of," Grantaire complains loudly.

"Have you been a part of many kidnapping attempts?" Valjean asks with a frown, as he drives slowly past the imposing gardens and straight to the front door.

"Er, kind of?" Grantaire says thoughtfully. "I mean, Courfeyrac does regularly try to lock me in a closet with Enjolras. Does that count?"

"Interesting people, your friends," Valjean says.

"That's one way of putting it," Grantaire says with a shrug.

"Right," Valjean announces and parks the car. Before Grantaire realizes what is happening, Valjean is out of his seat and opening Grantaire's door for him.

"I could've opened that," Grantaire complains loudly. "You know, this is terrible kidnapping etiquette, I'm quite sure you're supposed to - "

"_Please_ don't start that again."

"You're _really _no fun," Grantaire says with a pout. "Worst kidnapper _ever_. I bet all the other kidnappers made fun of you at kidnapping school."

"Are you always like this? Or do you just _really _want to test your friend's theory?"

"I like to believe it's just my sunny, talkative disposition shining through." Grantaire grins mischievously. "Of course, maybe I'm just trying to make you fall in love with me in a reverse Stockholm syndrome sort of way, but - "

Valjean responds only by rolling his eyes and gently shoving him towards the door.

"Alright, alright," Grantaire complains. "No need to get handsy now."

As he walks into the house and through long, richly-carpeted corridors, Grantaire can't help but let out a low whistle. "Well, this is almost too pretentious to function. And, yet again, terrible kidnapping technique - aren't you supposed to take me to a creepy abandoned warehouse?"

Valjean ignores him, before stopping in front of a closed door and gently knocking on it.

"You can come in," a soft, female voice says from the other side and, when Valjean opens the door Grantaire, finds himself inside a small office, with an antique-looking mahogany desk and a brown-haired, brown-eyed woman that he finds vaguely familiar sitting behind it.

"Hello," the woman says and Grantaire takes a good, long look at her. She can't be any older than forty, and although there are large black circles under her eyes and her hair isn't as tidy as it could be she still radiates regality out of every pore.

"Um," Grantaire gulps, "You _really _weren't what I was expecting.".

The woman smiles kindly and gestures to the chair in front of the desk. "My name is Fantine. Please sit down."

Grantaire takes the seat and resists the urge to complain about the place. He really doesn't like it - much like he doesn't usually like things that scream _ostentatious douchebag_ - but he can't help but take in the floor-to-ceiling windows and speculate on the absolutely spectacular lighting the place must get during the day. He wonders if they'd be willing to rent it out to poor high school-age artists. Probably not.

"So, who the hell are you?" Grantaire asks.

The woman smiles softly and takes a deep breath. She looks tired, Grantaire thinks. Tired and kind. "I'm your stepmother. And I'm sorry you have to find out like this, but your father is dead."

"Okay." Grantaire shrugs.

She gasps. "You don't care?"

"Why should I?" Grantaire says. "He never called, not even after my mother died." His mother died when he was very young and he doesn't remember it, not really. He was three years-old when it happened and he knows now that there was a drunk driver, but all he can remember is the silence that a loving voice used to fill.

The woman sighs sadly, looking at him with pity clear in her eyes. "Yes, I know. Your father did always wanted to be in contact with you, though. There was an initial agreement with your mother but then, when she died, your grandfather wasn't that... accommodating about how you'd be raised. And then I married your father and you were never supposed to know about your heritage."

"I have a heritage?" Why the hell do these people keep talking to him about destinies and heritages?

"There's something you must know, about your father," she says, looking at him with pity in her eyes.

"Okay?" Grantaire says, frowning.

"Your father... Your father was the King of Genovia."

Grantaire can't stop himself from snorting. "You know, that is a terrible stage name. I mean, it's not as bad as The Artist Formerly Known as Prince, of course, but then again very few things are. I suppose he probably couldn't have pulled off calling himself Cher or Madonna, but that still doesn't mean - "

Fantine only shakes her head at him. "Genovia is an actual country, sweetheart. I was married to your father for many years but we never conceived a child together. And now that your father has passed away, you are the Crown Prince of Genovia."

And Grantaire can't help it - he falls out of his chair laughing at her words. "This is the worst kidnap attempt ever. I'm asking for a refund on my way out of the door. And for an actual stripper, I mean -"

"I know this must come as a shock to you, but Genovia must have a prince - " Fantine starts to say.

"That's _really _not me - " Grantaire says from the floor.

"You have a responsibility - "

"No, I don't. I don't even play Sims because I don't want to be responsible for fictional lives, what makes you think putting me in charge of an actual country would be a good idea?"

"I'm sure you'll be a great King, we can help you learn - "

"No!" Grantaire shouts, finally getting up from the floor.

"The people loved your father, I'm sure they will grow to love you as well - "

"No."

"There is no reason - "

"Look, no - I don't even speak Genovian, I don't know what the fuck do you want from me but - "

"Even Genovians don't speak Genovian. Genovians speak English, this isn't -"

"I'm not a prince, I'm an artist." There. That ought to clear it up for his new stepmother.

"I'm the current Regent Queen of Genovia and I have my employees jump out of birthday cakes to, as you so kindly put it, kidnap people. An artist king isn't so bad, all things considered."

"I'm really, really gay." There, _that _ought to put a stop to all monarchy conversations.

Except, of course, it doesn't. "Well," Fantine says slowly. "What a king does in the privacy of his own bedroom is no one else's business. Some arrangements will have to be made, of course, when the time comes - I am not fond of adoption but in vitro fertilization ought to be a good choice. As long as the baby is genetically yours, there is no reason why you shouldn't raise it with whoever you want - "

"Whoever I want is an anti-monarchy, outspoken, self-righteous, straightforward, sanctimonious holier-than-thou, loud asshole democrat who masturbates to social justice, Anonymous, and Wikileaks." Which is probably a moot point because Enjolras acts like he barely knows Grantaire exists most of the time but the idea of Grantaire's... _Consort King, _god help him, being someone like that ought to be enough to show Fantine how bad of a choice Grantaire would be for a King. He's also aware that he may be exaggerating quite a bit here - Enjolras is only _sort of _all of those things - or at least he is all of those things in a good, caring way. It's sweet, really. But playing it up for Fantine's sake probably won't hurt.

She shrugs, looking completely calm. "At least he's not a Belieber."

Which Grantaire has no idea what to do with. So he does the only thing he can think of. He runs away.

And he's _really _not thinking things through right now (not that he usually thinks things through) but the moment he runs out of the door he notices the parked limo. He doesn't remember Valjan taking the key from the ignition. He does remember how easily Valjean got through the security gates.

Grantaire knows it's a terrible decision.

He doesn't care.

He steals the limo.


End file.
